Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 344 Orion: That's it?

The fire in the fireplace had been burning for a while, occasionally popping and sending out a few sparks, the green flames leaping.

Orion sat behind his desk, a steaming teacup beside him, letters pushed aside, clearing a clean surface.

Regulus entered and sat down directly opposite him.

Orion looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"How's it going in Cornwall?" He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and put it down.

His tone was casual, as if he were just asking offhand, but Regulus knew that Orion definitely knew something.

Agnes was a long-time employee of the family, having served the Black family for over twenty years. Reporting events on the plantation to the head of the family was a basic procedure for her.

She had never witnessed the disintegration spell being cast, but she knew that eight kilometers to the west, the granite island that had been marked on Cornish charts for hundreds of years, Snell Rock, was gone.

The cause and effect is simple: Mr. Black came, performed magic for a few days, and Snell Rock was gone.

Orion did receive the news, but the images he could piece together were limited.

The Whomping Willow had only been in Cornwall for a few days, and this kid had already used it to create magic capable of sinking an island.

Powerful, of course powerful, it sounds pretty scary too.

But to be honest, in Orion's mind, sinking an island wasn't something irreplaceable.

The magical world has plenty of ways to destroy large targets.

Fiendfire can burn everything, but it is a cursed creation that devours all matter it comes into contact with at the level of existence. The price is that it is extremely difficult to control, and it will backfire if you are not careful.

A well-trained strike squad, with three to five Aurors working together and alternating blasting spells, would only need to wait a while to destroy an island.

Several high-intensity fire spells stacked together can burn the reefs and then be cooled with freezing spells. Repeating this process several times can dismantle the island.

The Ministry of Magic's war archives also record several true war spells, high-level spells designed to alter battlefield terrain, destroy enemy strongholds, and even dismantle large-scale defensive fortifications.

Most of these things originated from medieval wizarding wars. The spells themselves have been lost or listed as controlled substances, but their effects are real.

There is an ancient war curse called Dome Shattering, which is said to be able to cause the stone walls of a castle to shatter from the inside at the same time, causing the entire wall to collapse.

The spellcaster was a 14th-century French war wizard who carried out several major heists for the French court during the Hundred Years' War, before being secretly executed.

Judging from Agnes's report, the things Regulus created probably fall into this category in terms of function.

Large targets destroyed.

It possesses war-level destructive power, causing large-scale damage to buildings, terrain, and fixed targets.

In the history of magic, there are very few wizards who can achieve this level. In the present day, Regulus's achievement is already remarkable.

But if we compare it to the Disintegration Curse—

Orion weighed the implications in his mind; what truly shocked him about the Disintegration Curse was the concept itself.

It makes skin no longer skin, flesh no longer flesh, and existence lose its definition. That eerie quality of making the whole no longer whole is something that nothing else can replace.

Of course, these are all just speculations.

Agnes didn't see how the spell was cast; her report only contained the result, which was third-hand information, not intuitive, and therefore unreliable.

Orion snapped out of his thoughts, stopped thinking about it, looked at Regulus, and waited for him to speak. Regulus's lips curled up slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, relaxing: "It's finished."

Then his smile widened: "Far beyond expectations."

Orion raised an eyebrow; he already knew the outcome: an island was gone.

Regulus is always restrained and never exaggerates his achievements, but he said they far exceeded expectations.

If sinking an island is only part of what's beyond expectations, then what else is on it?

Orion leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, interlaced his fingers, and looked at Regulus’s face.

His expression was the same as before, with no obvious change, but his attention was more focused.

Regulus leaned back and held up three fingers: "This spell needs to be explained in several levels."

Orion's eyebrows rose again.

Can a single incantation be divided into levels?

He certainly understood that being tiered meant that each tier had different contents.

He didn't speak, but nodded slightly, indicating to continue.

"Let's start with the first level," Regulus said, extending his index finger and making a light tap in the air, his tone relaxed, "the most basic one."

"The spell is called Quassare, and the hand gesture is a reverse chop, with the wrist rotating half an inch at the lowest point."

He loosely clenched his right hand and made a downward and rotating motion with his wrist: "The effect is direct. When it hits the target, the magic penetrates inside and shatters it from the inside out."

Orion listened without much change in expression, but a thought flashed through his mind: Is that all?

What's the difference between shattering from the inside and shattering from the outside?

Whether a stone is blasted into powder by an explosion spell or shattered into fragments by this spell, the final result is still the same: it breaks.

The feeling of casting a spell is different, and the feeling of being hit is different, but on the battlefield, once it's broken, it's broken.

He didn't voice these thoughts, but simply nodded to indicate that he was listening.

Regulus continued, "The harder and denser the substance, the better the effect."

Orion's eyes flickered; to be honest, this was a bit counterintuitive.

Generally speaking, destructive spells are more difficult to use on harder objects. Granite is harder to blast than wood, and metal is harder to break than stone. This is common sense.

He remained calm and listened quietly.

"A normal spellcasting," Regulus continued, his tone unchanged: "One shot, the target shatters, then stop."

The effect is directly linked to the caster's magical power; the more magical power poured in, the larger the object will be destroyed.

He spread his hands: "One hundred Galleons of magic has the effect of one hundred Galleons, and one thousand Galleons of magic has the effect of one thousand Galleons."

Orion understood.

Single-shot output, the effect is directly proportional to the input, linearly.

This is the pattern of most attack spells: the amount of magic used is what you get, and if you want a greater effect, you have to put in more magic.

Nothing special, just reasonable and straightforward.

But Regulus said this was only the first layer, meaning that what followed was not linear.

He looked at Regulus, his gaze sharpening for a moment.

Regulus noticed his father's expression, and a slight smile appeared on his lips as he continued.

"This is just the most basic form of the spell," he said, holding up his second finger. "Next is the second layer: the superposition of vibrations."

Orion frowned slightly.

How do you stack them?

"Continuous output," Regulus continued, "the wand remains pointed at the target, the magic power flows continuously, and the vibrations repeatedly accumulate inside the target."

Each oscillation is superimposed on the remnants of the previous layer, progressing layer by layer.

He looked at Orion and uttered two words: "Exponential."

Orion's brow furrowed even deeper.

He wasn't familiar with the term "exponential increase," but it was a descriptive method Regulus often used, carrying a Muggle mathematical flavor.

But he could understand the meaning: each time it was stacked, the power doubled. One hit was one, two hits were four, three hits were sixteen, and the fourth hit was two hundred and fifty-six.

The numbers jump upwards, becoming increasingly absurd and outrageous as they go further.

Not only were the numbers outrageous, but Orion felt that Regulus's claim was even more absurd; such a thing didn't exist in the magical world.

But Regulus said that since that was the case, he believed him.

Orion was silent for a long while, then asked, "How long will it last?"

"It depends on the magic power, as long as the caster's magic power can keep up." Regulus saw his father's expression and the corners of his mouth turned up.

This is just the beginning; there's more to come.

Orion took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

With continuous output and exponential growth, given enough time, given his total magic power, what could he shatter if he pushed this spell to its limit?

He looked at Regulus, his tone somewhat grave: "What about the ceiling?"

Regulus didn't answer directly, but smiled and said, "Speaking of the upper limit, we have to talk about the threshold first."

Orion frowned.

There's a threshold to overcome. The last Disintegration Curse also had a threshold—understanding disintegration—which he still hasn't crossed.

"The first hurdle is the manipulation of magic."

Regulus raised his right hand, making a fist and then releasing it in the air.

"The instant the spell is fired from the tip of the staff, the magic power converges from a surface to a point. The diffused magic power, upon contact with the target surface, is compressed into the size of a needle tip, thus penetrating."

He looked at Orion and made a chopping motion.

"The convergence window is less than one-hundredth of a second. Once this window is missed, the magic explodes on the surface and cannot penetrate. The vibration dissipates on the outside, making it useless."

Orion didn't speak, and his expression wasn't relaxed.

The magic converged in a fraction of a second, instantly compressing the diffused surface into a needle tip.

This is completely different from regular spellcasting.

Most wizards never need to use this level of precision in manipulating magic in their entire lives.

They learn spells, pronounce the syllables correctly, wave their wands, and magic bursts from the tip of the wand; hitting the target is all it takes.

As for the form of magic at the moment it leaves the staff—whether it's a surface or a point, gathered or dispersed—they never even considered it.

Because there's no need to think, the spell is exactly what it is, and it's not up to them to adjust it.

Orion thought to himself, "Regulus always sets the standards in weird places."

But unlike most wizards, he was good at delicate work.

His control over magic is excellent, even superb, ranking among the top in his generation of pure-blood patriarchs.

However, Regulus's requirements were somewhat different.

In daily spellcasting, from the start to the release, there is a half-second to one-second adjustment window, which is enough for him to make any corrections in the middle.

One-hundredth of a second, there's no room for correction; every move must be right, or it's all for nothing.

He thought for a moment and then slowly nodded.

It's possible, but not easy. It requires special practice. When you reach the point where switching magic becomes an instinctive reaction, without thinking or judging, you can simply turn your wrist and the magic will automatically dissipate.

This is not easy, but the goal is clear and the path is well-defined. Give him some time, and he can succeed.

Much better than last time.

The threshold for the Disintegration Spell cannot be mastered through practice alone. Even practicing ten thousand times won't help if you don't have that concept in your mind; otherwise, your magic won't possess that attribute.

The Disintegration Spell is different; the precision of manipulating magic is at least a technical issue, and technical issues can be solved.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

If the Disintegration Curse is just this one, then he heard Regulus speak again.

"The second threshold," Regulus continued, "is cognitive convergence."

Orion's teacup stopped in mid-air.